


The Better I'll Sleep

by Nevanna



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Disturbing Themes, Family, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Nightmares, Post-Episode: s02e20 Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back the Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 09:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10850973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: Dipper still thinks (and dreams) about what might have happened if he'd become Ford's apprentice.





	The Better I'll Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This story requires full knowledge of both seasons of _Gravity Falls_. It was inspired by a prompt from [this list](http://angstmemes.tumblr.com/post/128497219610/nightmare-starters), and a request from my dear Ellerkay.
> 
> The title is from the song "The Listening Chair" by Imogen Heap.

Mabel sets down the mugs of hot chocolate and takes a seat across from Dipper. The clock on the stove tells them that it’s almost one o’clock in the morning.

 _If I’d made a different choice sixteen months ago,_ he thinks, _how late would I stay awake? Would I be studying? Exorcising ghosts? Chasing cryptids through the woods? Dissecting something in the basement?_

He waits until his hands have stopped shaking before he reaches for his cup. His drink is piled with whipped cream and sprinkled with cinnamon. Mabel is chattering about something – a book that she was reading before bed, maybe – and the familiar rise and fall of her voice warms him as much as the first sip.

“Better?” she asks.

Dipper nods. “A little.”

“It’s been a while since your dreams were this bad,” she remarks. “Maybe we should get one of those Native American net thingies and hang it above your bed.”

“A dream catcher?” Dipper snorts. “Honestly? I’m not a child.”

She rolls her eyes. “Even if I believed _that_...”

“And we’re not Native Americans.”

“Then we’ll have to think of something else,” Mabel declares. 

“If there was another way to ward off nightmares, the journals would have mentioned…” Dipper falls silent. He’s long since gotten over his conviction that the man who wrote those journals knew everything, but he still recalls how that belief once felt. _I would have believed whatever he told me._

When he lowers his mug, Mabel is staring at him intently. “Dip, was…” She hesitates. “Was your nightmare about Bill?”

For a moment, Dipper considers lying. “No. It was about Great-Uncle Ford.” _If I were his apprentice now, what would he expect of me?_ He shivers again.

Mabel nods. “I’m sure he’s fine. If you want to call and check in, he’s probably still awake. Doesn’t matter what time zone they’re in.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Dipper says. He raises his mug in her direction, a whipped-cream-laden toast. “Right now, this is helping a lot.” He’s not lying, and he doesn’t need to tell Mabel the whole truth: that, in his dream, she was shackled to a lab table, her eyes wide and terrified, as Ford handed Dipper a scalpel and told him – very gently and patiently – how important it was to look beneath the surface. That image wasn’t real. He’s _sure_ that it would never happen, and it only matters as much as he allows it to. “I’m really glad you’re here.”


End file.
